


Dirt

by LumaBoop



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Aromantic, F/M, First Person, Happy Ending?, Incest, M!Hawke - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Muscle Kink, Narcissism, Pedophilia, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, asshole!Hawke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumaBoop/pseuds/LumaBoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A truly insufferable Hawke and his recollection of everyone else through his cynical, selfish, and egotistical view.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>For you see, I have a rule. It’s a beautiful beautiful rule. And it goes as such— “Do not allow those who expect more from you than sex into your life”. Gorgeous, isn’t it?</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>When simplified, it’s all about sex. And to be honest, I’m not going to ruin it with 10% unnecessary drama</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Experimental writing project to exercise miserable, despicable, and undesirable character qualities through writing.

Most may find the thought scandalous, or even belittling to one’s value as a sentient being, but, there’s just something about a little slap and tickle that’s simply… invigorating. I care not for the person, so long as their body’s fit for the task. Skinny, thick, short, tall, male, female, elf, dwarf, human… I’d do a Qunari if I knew it wouldn’t kill me afterwards. Darkspawn and animals aside, I’m a man of insufferable appetite.

 

Those that don’t understand this don’t belong in my life.

 

For you see, I have a rule. It’s a beautiful beautiful rule. And it goes as such— “Do not allow those who expect more from you than sex into your life”. Gorgeous, isn’t it? And while I try to target those that have a similar taste levels as me, I never seem to be able to keep my hands to myself from those that desire love. Love? Who has time for love? It’s a disgusting, messy, and troublesome thing. Why bother with love when the basis of love is usually 90% sex from what I’ve seen on the outside.

 

When simplified, it’s all about sex. And to be honest, I’m not going to ruin it with 10% unnecessary drama.

 

But since coming to Kirkwall and losing a brother, and a mother, it seems that’s all that’s been coming my way. My so-called companions are so _needy_. With their _feelings_ and their _vices_. Their _woes_ and their _causes_. Their _goals_ and their _lack_ of them. I care not— but for the sake of great sex, I’m willing to put on a rougish smile and coddle.

 

That’s usually enough to get the pantaloons’ dropping. And if a little slap-and-tickle shuts them up for a night or two, I’m game. So long as they don’t try and slip _love_ into it.


	2. Exploitation

Did I mention that I have a distinctive lack of shame? I didn’t? Well, consider it mentioned. My taste level developed at a very very tender age. I remember the first time I decided to act upon my interest.

 

My brother.

 

Lothering shapes many boys into rapping young men. All lean hard muscle, my brother was, and my own physique only pushed him to be harder and tougher. But mentally, he was still my precious little brother. And he knew it. And he loved it.

 

I remember the night I took him in our barn. He’d fallen asleep pushing himself too hard on some task. I can’t recall. But the way he fought me on it. It merely aroused me further to have him. He lashed out, even clawed. I still have the scaring on my arm from when he took a chuck out of it with his teeth. Bleeding, and heart racing, I remember punching him so hard, he fell into the hay. I pounced.  
  


So tight—and puckered, so as to keep me out. No such luck. I shoved passed his silly resistance and took what I wished. He wailed and cried, but his sniveling turned to whimpers and groans. He grew hard between thighs and I fisted him— I remember the burn it left on my palm. It was so familiar to my own, yet wider. I loved it and I stroked it as I continued to make my little brother wither beneath me.

 

‘ _Garrett…_ Garrett!’ he’d moaned, opening his thighs more for me. I took complete advantage, and I loved every second of it. I don’t remember if he climaxed or not, but I know I did. Deep within him—so deep, he didn’t leak.

 

He’d lay there prone and flushed in moonlit darkness, looking up at me with that…  _horrid_ emotion mixed with adoration and a bit of envy. While I reveled in the hero-worship, I cared little of the love he had for me, but what can you do? You  _have_  to love your family, right?

 

I think Carver is the only one that I loved back, but only because I had to. And now he is dead. Go figure.


	3. Incorruptible

After Carver, my cravings grew outside the family. What Lothering had to offer, I was willing to reap. A tryst here and there—it was lovely. Granted, a lot of my time had to be dedicated to Carver. Like I said, I had no choice. He was family.

 

Bethany was also family. My sweet sweet Bethany. The first girl I cared to ravish.

 

Ironically, I hadn’t been targeting her when it happened. Lothering was mostly a town of men, and of them, mostly scum. And scum like to get pretty things dirty—it’s why they’re called scum. Bethany, over and over, was attracted to scum, and always got hurt. Annoying, but what can I do? I was big brother and I was always there on the rebound. Her crying was painful… to the ears, the heart, and  _especially_  the head. Then, one day, I gave her a tiny little peck on the forehead, just to silence her wailing.

 

The glow in her cheeks was nothing short of precious. She practically made herself my next target.

 

The evening after my tiny public show of affection, she curled up next to me in bed, claiming to have had a nightmare. I smirked at her and called her a liar. She looked so hurt at that and I whispered to her my own rapturing lies. I lied about how she wanted to know what it was like to be caressed and touched. I lied and told her that she only wished to be with a true man and sate her curiosity.

 

She believed my lies. Her glow was breath taking and that night I took my breath back from her.

 

She was much like Carver—moaning and reeling underneath me. I can’t remember kissing someone whose mouth was so open and anticipatory –desperate- for contact. Maker, she was a moaner… and a scratcher. I get happy bumps just remembering the marks that ran down my back when I slid into her . Her legs locked around my waist and I took her hot, virgin heat over and over. With every thrust, I could feel the faint haze of magic wafting about the sex-humid air. It merely made us crazier with lust.

 

 _Abominations_ , some call mages. _Wonderfully endowed_ is what I call them.

 

‘Garreett’ she’d mewled. Mewled. And she kissed me again when she came. Aah, that squeeze around me when she came— magnificent. I had nearly came undone myself inside her, but I remember I pulled out, like a good big brother would.

 

The utter look of fascination that bestowed my sister’s face as I came upon her stomach was nothing short of innocent. How she still maintained such purity after that I can still not fathom. I can still remember the delicate tickle of her fingertips on my sensitized head, gathering my cum then licking white into her mouth.

 

She’d purred and whispered ‘I hope they all taste like you’. Maker…

 

I miss her, though I’m sure after what happened in the Deep Roads and to Mother, she is glad to be as far away from me as possible. My innocent Bethany is no more.


	4. Objectum Sexual

Needless to say, there was absolutely NO time for sex of any kind when we were fleeing from Lothering. Not to mention that getting a rise from a dragon is… awkward especially since she flew off before I could place my charms. She was probably out of my league anyway… and out of my preferred age range. Nah, definitely out of my league—older women can be  _tigers_  in bed.

 

Ship ride leaving absolutely no room for any kind of exploitation with us packed in like slaves, the time without sex was very  **very**  stressful. Sure, Bethany shared my bed several times, but I was growing tired of keeping it within the family. I was in a new city, for Andraste’s sake! It was time to mark new territory like only a Fereldan man can. Besides, with Carver gone from this world, I had to supplement my need for male flesh.

 

However, Kirkwall simply wouldn’t allow me my needs.

 

It was an interesting the first few months. Between the horrible place of residence, learning my way around (fucking maze of a city) and struggling to pay off money that my  **lovely**  uncle owed, I have to say I was about to go to the Gallows and buy something, any sort of potion, to curve my sexual appetite because it just wasn’t getting its usual quota.

 

And then this dashingly charming dwarf came by around a year into my misery.

 

I’ve never really had an interest in dwarves up until this particular one—they’re weird. Very weird… and crafty. Money-hoarders. But this one, he really didn’t seem to be interested in money, per se. He seemed more interested in getting by and looking out for himself.

 

He had a brother, but not important.

 

What WAS important was that this dwarf was immediately speaking my language after seeing me and Bethany fight. Enough money to pay my way out of debt and back into nobility. What did I have to lose besides my balls at that point due to underuse?

 

Did I mention how utterly dashing and charming this dwarf was? Seriously, he put me to shame when I first met him by how well he could talk his way around just about anything and talk himself  _into_  just about anything. He’d mastered his orator skills.

 

I opted for some private lessons.

 

Didn’t last long. He gave me pointers and completely dodged, ducked, and absorbed ever single roguish flattery I had for him. I knew no better back then that nothing could raise a stir in Varric’s loins except a nice caress on his outlandish crossbow. Dwarves… so bloody weird. I suppose Varric had to have  _some_  weirdness to him. Racist? Yeah, but I’ve yet to met a dwarf that wasn’t weird in some distinctive way.

 

I’ve yet to be able to coax Varric into a saucy, sexy, and completely incredible one night stand of dwarven/human sex. While he swears up and down that he’d do me in a minute, he keeps referencing to his crossbow’s jealousy.

 

I have half a mind to throw that crossbow into a bonfire… but then I fear of Varric’s ability to get a rise. So, Varric is the only man I’ve yet to woo. I doubt I ever will. That’s… comforting in a way. Tch. It means he’s the only man I know for sure won’t fall in  _love_  with me. A damn shame he’s not with me now, but I bet anything that he’s off telling some sort of outrageous story— that mouth of his. If only he had used it on my cock instead of yapping so much. He’s the right height for it anyway. To the Void with Bianca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for the reposted stuff!  
> When the muse comes up for more of this version of Hawke, rest assured, he'll speak up about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited and re-posted to A03  
> Originally written Sept 29th, 2011  
> One shots will continue on A03


End file.
